mia

I wanted to hear her whisper those things in her breathy voice, I wanted to take her into my arms and kiss away every single tear

I hoped that wherever she was, God was with her, comforting her, just as he’d comforted me so many times

And before I could stop myself, I thought, I want my dick in that mouth. I want that mouth crying my name. I want-

I dropped my arms, immediately missing the way she felt there. Missed the way her tits pushed against my naked chest

I wanted to kiss that part of her wrist, press my lips against her pulse point, right before I tied a rope around it

I let her walk past me, but it wasn’t because I wanted her to leave or because I wanted this temptation to end. No, it was more like I was giving her one last chance to escape, and if she didn’t then Jesus help her, because I had to touch her, I had to taste her and it had to be right the fuck now

“But just one taste,” I murmured, talking more to myself than to her now. “God wouldn’t punish me for just one taste.” (forgive me, my God) but no communion wine, no salvation had ever tasted sweeter than this, and one taste would not be enough

All I could breathe and taste was her, and then I looked up and saw the crucifix at the front of the church—a tragic, agonized god hanging in sacrifice—and my heart lurched. What the hell was I doing?

God, I wanted to marry this woman or collar her or cage her; I wanted to own her, make her, take her

She was the kind of woman that could make me hard over and over again, the kind of woman I could spend a week fucking nonstop and then still want more

"I shouldn’t put you over my lap and spank your ass for being a brazen little slut and coming here without a bra,” I growled in her ear. “I shouldn’t twist ropes around your wrists and ankles until your cunt is exposed and then screw you until you can’t walk anymore

"Three days is a long time from now,” I said in her ear. “I just want to make sure that you’re taken care of until then"

"Where’s the man who spanked me?” she asked. “Where’s the man who fucked my throat until my eyes watered?”

I was so bare with this woman in every way, my nerves flayed raw and my heart wide open and my eternal soul

Priests weren’t allowed to fall in love. I wasn’t allowed to fall in love

I took kisses from her rather than sharing them with her

I would fuck her until she felt like she was mine. I would fuck her until she couldn’t walk away. I would fuck her until I couldn’t walk away

Lost to my control, to my vows, to anything other than the need to mark this woman in the most primitive and the basest way possible

Nothing short of being with this woman every minute of every day would be enough to stop the yawning hunger low in my belly. Or, even more dangerously, stop the hunger in my heart

Please help her find guidance and peace. Please help her heal from her past. And please please please help us behave

I wanted both lives—the life where we were believer and priest and the life where we were man and woman

"I can’t stop myself, I’m sorry,” I said at the same time she said, “I tried to stay away from you.” And then I kissed her

Maybe it was God’s plan all along for us to end up here, alone in this sanctuary, and forced to face the truth, that this was more than friendship, this was more than lust. This was something raw and real and undeniable and it was not going to go away

Why would God bring Poppy here if I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her? Was it truly so terrible for a man of God to have sex?

She leaned forward, pushing up on her toes, and I had no idea what she was doing until I felt her soft lips press against my cheek

He was cursing by this point, folding me over the bench and driving into me from behind while he pressed my face against the leather and I felt the cold metal of his wedding ring against my hip. It was degrading and terrible and I came almost immediately

“Poppy,” I said dangerously, “did you come here without underwear?”

"We won’t have sex,” she promised. “No sex, and then it’s not really breaking any rules, right?”

There it went, any self-discipline that remained, and all that was left was a male—not Tyler, not Father Bell—but something more primal and more demanding. Punishing her for showing up here and knocking my carefully constructed life over as if it were a house of cards

We were more human than ever—more animal than ever—but somehow I still felt so close to God

And when I climaxed, I hoped to God that you would be able to hear me calling your name

She leaned back into me, her eyes still pinned to the cross, and I just held her as we both let the moment wash over us, bathe us in the dying light and the silence

Where I’d made her mine and no other man’s, where I had taken an oath of marriage in my heart